A real adult vacation and other happenings

The weather has turned hot and humid here.  I knew it would because that is so characteristic of the Lowcountry.  It has also been dry for over a week, and I have been watering the garden and the plants that are waiting to be put into the front yard beds after the irrigation system is laid out.

We decided to have the front lawn landscaped too.  I think that it will be truly stunning when completed. Right now, it looks like a dirt baseball field or a farm plot that a mule has plowed because all of the old grass was scraped up.  But soon it will look like paradise.  It actually looked good before all of this, but after seeing what magic was created in the backyard, we took the plunge on the front yard transformation too.

I didn't write a Mother's Day post yesterday because it seemed just too much. Last year, Mom had died in February. My mother has been dead now since 2005.  The loss of those two women has been incredibly hard. I think about them not just on Mother's Day.  Reaching the stage in life where I am without parents and no close blood relatives is sort of depressing. So I decided that yesterday, I would go for a sail with some friends and then visit the parents of one of my friends.

The sail was on a cat boat which is gaff rigged and only 18 feet. It was a lot of fun, even though we had light air.  The impending storm only concerned us for a few moments.  It did make for a spectacular backdrop for the city though.

I am getting ready to embark on another adventure. We leave for Cabo San Lucas on Saturday morning. Neither of us has been to Baja California Sur before, but I am familiar with the abundant marine life around the Baja peninsula, sandwiched between the Pacific and the Sea of Cortez. And I have read and re-read Steinbeck's Log from the Sea of Cortez, detailing a marine specimen-collecting expedition he made at various sites in the Gulf of California (aka the Sea of Cortez), with his friend and drinking buddy, the marine biologist Ed Ricketts. 

We are now trying to decide what to pack and what to unpack.  I am only concerned about taking my camera bag and tripod, knowing that a couple of pairs of shorts and shirts in a backpack will do me just fine. I can tell you that we are flying there. I have had an unbelievable number of people ask me how I am getting there--as if we are going to sail. I haven't calculated the time it would take to get there averaging 6 knots, but suffice to say, sailing would take a much longer time than we currently have. Now that would be a voyage! 

I am hoping to take in a meeting when I am on vacation. The condo where we are staying is about one mile from the town. So I will be looking for the Serenity Club when I am in Cabo.  Somehow, I think that just being in that place on vacation will be serenity enough. 

Hopefully, I will be able to do some short posts while I am away. I am not sure about the wifi situation. Maybe I will just be off the grid. But if I do post, it will be with some photos and to tell you what is going on. A real adult vacation--the first one in a long time. Too long. Be well. 

Mother's Day 2013 is not Today

I thought today was Mother's Day. But I am going to leave this up because I am obviously a week off and am thinking of the mothers today.

 It's a windy and rainy day here. Most likely if the mothers were still alive, we would have them here, sitting in front of a fire and fixing them lunch and dinner.  Then we would give them a few presents. My mother liked pretty things, while my MIL liked practical things.  No mothers are around anymore for us.

I can look back and remember them so well when they were bustling about and not infirm, crippled by age and illness.  Sometimes, flashbacks happen, and I am transported back to when my mother would read to me, take me on scientific collecting trips, help me with homework, and console me when I was anxious about something.  Or she will come to me in dreams, in which I am helping her.  I can recall her in those moments as if she never left.

With my MIL dying so recently, I have thought many times of her over the past two months.  I see so many things that she did for her daughter.  Her pressed tablecloths are still in the linen closet, wrapped in wax paper.  Nearly everyday, we come across something that reminds us of her.  And yet, the sadness of loss is being replaced with wistful thoughts of what used to be.

The loss of parents is a reminder of my own aging which I have been feeling more and more of late.  I can still physically do a lot, but I have a sense that the days are slipping by too quickly.  I am considered middle aged now.  I saw what aging did to my parents and has done to my in-laws.  Thankfully, my parents died suddenly without a prolonged illness.  My MIL and FIL were not so lucky.

I don't feel like giving in to aging but realize that the things I used to do all day cause me to ache some now.  I gave up running because it began to hurt too much.  And I have more of a desire to simply relax now and not push myself to do more.  I am certainly conscious of my age.  I understand now when my mother told me that she still felt as if she were 25 on the inside.  But for me, there are days that I feel my age on the inside too.

So today I'm wishing for all the mothers that there is some happiness in knowing that you are loved. Inside the core of every child, there is a bond with the one who gave us life, no matter what the actions or words of the child may be. I hope that you enjoy your day, do something good for yourself, and realize that you are a very special person.

“But there's a story behind everything. How a picture got on a wall. How a scar got on your face. Sometimes the stories are simple, and sometimes they are hard and heartbreaking. But behind all your stories is always your mother's story, because hers is where yours begin.” ― Mitch Albom

What I have been doing

I've had a busy time lately.  I spent the weekend on a trip down to the ACE Basin.  I asked a fellow that I know to ride along, thinking that he would give me a hand at the wheel so that I wouldn't be at the helm for 8 hours. I found out that he really doesn't know much about boats.  And that's really okay, because I had made the ASSumption that because he belonged to a boating organization, he might know something.

He is an affable fellow so we had good discussions on a lot of things. He lost his wife six years ago and is still sad about that.  He said that his life pretty much went off track after she died.  Not the drinking kind of off track but just not really there, if you know what I mean.  We talked politics because he shares the same leftist liberal views that I do.  I can tell you that if he weren't, we would have had a lot less to talk about because I don't discuss politics with most people.  We talked about his being Jewish and his going back to synagogue.  And we talked about what kind of boat he would like to get. He spent a lot of time on the iPhone too.

We passed the time and eventually met up with some fellow boaters and sailors at a marina.  Happy hour was pretty happy but not over the top.  And the dinner was at a resort restaurant.  I was seated across from a lady and her husband who were doing the Great Loop which goes up the East Coast.  Interesting stuff, except that she was really snippy and rude to her husband who seemed to want to talk incessantly.  He was working on his third Dark and Stormy, repeating the earlier stories, and she was telling us how she knew who she was at 20 and didn't need to learn much more about herself.  I finally said that I didn't have a clue who I was at 20 and was really getting to know who I was over the past decade.  I am really happy that I have made that progress.  And I know enough to realize that I can last through a two hour dinner with just about anyone, learn something, and then walk back to the boat.

On Sunday, we headed back up the coast to my home port.  I was tired and in need of a good soaking shower when I got home.  But here are some photos of the scenery on the trip.

At the dock

Lots of marsh and lowlands

Storm clouds coming in 

Paddle boarders going by 

A bridge opening on the ICW

Old boat shed along the way

Yes, that is a manned gun boat telling me to stay away. 

And then there is the garden.  It is coming along nicely.  My wife has a green thumb.  We have mulched, planted, amended, and irrigated.   The flowers are her pride and joy.  I like them but am partial to growing the edibles.  I do like the strawberries and blueberry plants.  I had best show you the way it looks now because later in the summer, it will not look nearly as pretty or lush.  

The blueberries!

Irrigating the raised beds

Potatoes coming up 

The walkway to the front door

Today is also my mother's birthday.  I usually write a tribute to her here.  My tribute to her this year is short. She was an inspiration in so many ways.  I miss her every day.  She loved me as her child and taught me about dedication, science, a love for books and research, and to pursue my dreams no matter what.

Happy birthday, Elizabeth

Today is my mother's birthday. I can't help but think of her with a mixture of happiness and sadness. She was certainly a woman of many contradictions.

She was my best friend when I was a child. We always had a number of interesting things to do. Every summer there would be a project for me to work on that involved biology.  She believed that learning could be fun, and she made it so.  I would hatch out insects and study the life stages. I would grow tadpoles into frogs. I had my own microscope and would make slides from my blood, onion skin, algae, etc. We went into the woods and along ponds and streams to collect and study various things.  I knew all the moths and butterflies in the area.  This was what she taught me.

She was a Latin and English teacher who loved science. She also loved history and wrote a book on history of our county. She graduated from college and took graduate courses, all things that women of her generation hardly ever did. She was an elected official and was in all sorts of clubs. My mother was one of the most interesting people that I ever met. She was also one of the saddest.

From an early age, I can remember my mother having a very closed view of our little world. She was a proper lady when she needed to be and could be very haughty and judgmental if she was put on the defensive. She was always in denial about our family.  Her sister was a recluse.  Her father suffered from depression.  My father drank heavily at times.  But she refused to see any of this.

Instead, she told me many times to "remember who you are and where you came from", referring to our family tree.  This was very confusing to me since I didn't think that we lived any better than anyone else or that we were any better than others. I liked just about everybody and to this day have an affinity for the people who aren't loved because they aren't good looking or rich or powerful. I am a friend to the underdog, I guess.

Anyway, my mother always wanted me to be the best. I had to have the best grades and succeed academically. She didn't have to push me much because it was what I wanted also.  All of this fed right into being affected by alcoholism because perfectionism in the midst of pain is how I coped.  I know that she was proud of my accomplishments though.

Mother could be very vain and put on great airs. In later life, those kinds of things could be excused, but they still bothered me. She suffered from severe depression from age 70 on. I made sure that she got treated.  My father didn't know what to do.  I can remember him crying because he could not make her well, and he didn't understand what was wrong with her.

She was treated with all kinds of drugs, but nothing seemed to work.  So after bringing her from Virginia to SC, she was put in the psychiatric institute where she began a series of shock treatments (ECT).  She had hundreds of ECT's over the course of her depression. She was hospitalized many times, and each time she was admitted, she would come out more mentally fragile than before. Anything could trigger a major depression such as getting a cold or not knowing how to work a microwave. But, when she wasn't depressed, she could have such  fun. Everything seemed to be a treat for her. It was as if life was a big candy store.

In her last years, she lived in a nursing center where she was the "social director". She always dressed beautifully and had a lot of friends among staff, visitors, and residents.  She became more beautiful with age.  If she approved of you, she could be charming. If she didn't, well, you never knew whether she would be cold or just neutral. I think that her depression had a lot to do with her attitude. Most times when I would visit her or bring her home, she would be busily writing or reading. She loved to make inventories of all the antiques and delighted in genealogy. I guess that the inventory I made on myself is probably one that she never thought about.

Mother died peacefully at age 95 in 2005. I know that she was an exceptionally bright woman who had inherited a terrible illness.  I don't know that she ever acknowledged how much my father drank.  I think that she denied so many things rather than face reality.

Depression robbed her of a lot because the ECT treatments wipe out short term memory. I'm just glad that her last years were spent being cared for well and being around those who loved her. Happy birthday Elizabeth. I still love and miss you.

Letters to the dead

I have had some old letters on my mind today.  For some reason,  I can't get them off my mind.  I discovered them years ago when I closed the estate of an aunt in Virginia.  Among the possessions were a number of daily spiritual readers.  Inside the front and back covers of the books were letters that she had written to her son who was killed in action in France on September 13, 1944.

Throughout the book are notes written in the margins.  I believe that these daily readers sustained her in the days and years after her son was killed.  She poured out her feelings and her sorrow and her faith on these pages.

I am not a fan of war.  I hope that there will not be any more wars.  I want to remember the brave people who fought for us, but also to remember the tragedies of history so as not to repeat them.  So I've copied down excerpts from her letters here to remind me of the sacrifice and the tragedy of war.

Dear Son,
It is April 28, 1945.  I am visiting in a place of beautiful lakes, stately oaks and glorious flowers of all kinds that bedeck the sidewalks and gardens. The gray moss waves in the branches of the trees and glistens like silver making a picture so real that I marvel at the power of nature and God's wisdom in creating a world so restful and artistic.  

I came here two months ago.  Like many other mothers the world over, I had received a message: "The War Department Regrets." This message changed the whole course of your life, and a world of happiness becomes sadness and grief.  How foolish to run from sorrow.  Your loss, dear son, is so much apart of me, there is no escape. 

It has been said "We die the death inherent in our lives." We get the kind of death that our nature's attract.  The brave die adventurously.  You knew no fear and loved adventure.  Your bravery was so fully proven in facing death.  

God help me to accept with uncomplaining grace my heart breaking sorrow, and to carry on until such time, when I am called to sleep the sleep from which we wake no more.  And I pray, I will be worthy of meeting you son, who did and gave so much that my remaining years be spent in a land of peace.  Until we meet my dear, rest in peace.  
Mother

Monday afternoon, October 22, 1945
Dear Son,
A lieutenant buddy of yours came to see me today.  He had just returned from France.  He was with you when you were wounded and spoke with you before you passed on. 

He said you gave your life that many men could be saved.  He pictured you as a hero, loved by all and a true friend to the end.  I was so glad that he came for it seemed like a message from the beyond saying "Mother, chin up. I won't be back, I'm just away."
God bless you, my child. 
Mother

Letter to my son May 13, 1945
A day to remember son.  It's Mother's Day.  A day of prayer of victory in Europe. Eight months ago today you gave your young life paving the way, making this victory come true. 

There will be no roses for me today.  No message resting in the scented box saying "I love you Mother" for the boy who never forgot to remember isn't here any more. 

But dear I feel you know that the memories of those days are so alive and real that I will relive them so completely, that when the sun rests tonight in the west, it will be almost as if you were here.  
Mother

April 28, 1946

Dear Son, 
Tonight it came over the radio that the war in the West was over.  You dear will never know what a battle I fought.  I have to be happy for other mothers more fortunate than I.  I went out and took a walk with the little dog.  

There came over me a peace in the thought that you when in a football game, never cared how you came out as long as your team won.  Well, your team is winning now.  You paid an awful price my dear, but knowing you as I do, I know you would not think that price too high for complete victory.  I feel you must know when your team will reach the goal line, and your spirit will be there when the score is read the world over. 
My love,
Mother

And in the overleaf of the book where she wrote these letters, here is her hope:
"If ever you are burdened down
By the loss of those you love.
Just take this book, and turn the page
Meditate and think.

The consolation you'll obtain will give you strength and peace again.
In helping others, we forget
The cross we have to bear.
And trusting God to guide our steps,
We enter heaven by prayer. "

Amen to that.

No child left indoors

When I was growing up there were no video games, no computers, no cell phones, and in the early years no TV.   Instead, there was the outdoors which was the best entertainment ever. 

My father would take me fishing when he was off work.  I've written before about how he taught me to read the water, drive a boat,  and to catch trout, croaker, and spot.  My mother though was the main force behind the then unheard of philosophy of "No child left indoors" (see note below).  From the time that I got off school for summer vacation,  she would take me for treks through the woods and fields to identify plants, collect insects, and bring back pond water to look at under the microscope. 

Our field trips were the source of delight because we would always find something strange.  She would delight in finding shelf fungi on trees, mats of algae in a pond, and the occasional horned caterpillar of a favorite moth. On more than one occasion, I would bring home a cocoon or an egg case to be placed in a hatching cage that my father built.  Every day, I would check to see what progress was being made until eventually a moth would emerge from the cocoon or beetles would hatch from the egg case.  Even having a thousand tiny praying mantis escape from the hatching cage and invade the kitchen wasn't much of a problem for my mother.  It was all part of the adventure. 

The old Hepplewhite dining room table that has been around for over a hundred years became my laboratory bench.  There were snakes, frogs, and many species of insect that were examined, identified and labeled.  It was really through my mother's efforts that I developed such an interest in science, especially natural history. 

But being outside was the best laboratory of all. When I think about what so many children are missing today because they are stuck inside playing video games, or endlessly texting their friends, it makes me wonder who they will be tomorrow.  Maybe they will be the computer gurus of the future.  Or perhaps the next software developers.  Or maybe the text messaging will spark an interest in writing a book.  The possibilities are endless.  I am simply grateful for the outdoor time that I spent and how it shaped me.  I truly wasn't a child left indoors.

Note: In recent years, people around the country have been rallying behind a no-child-left-inside campaign, according to Richard Louv, the ground-breaking author of Last Child in the Woods: Saving Our Children from Nature-Deficit Disorder. In his book, he quotes James Sallis of the Active Living Research Program for the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation who says that “an indoor, sedentary childhood is linked to mental health problems.” It is also linked to problems with childhood obesity. 

The following statistics say a lot: (1) According to the Kaiser Foundation, in 2005 the average United States child spent six hours a day watching television and playing video games on a computer. (2) Most state and national parks report a ten to 20% drop in visitors over the past few years. (3) The organization “Playing for Keeps” says that 80% of children under age two and more than 60% of ages two to five have no access to daily outdoor play.

Thoughts for Mothers

I remember all those Mother's Days when I would get up early and put cards out and pick some flowers from the yard for my mother. The cards were the ones that I had made, with stiff paper and colored with crayons. Later on, I bought cards, but they never seemed to have the same significance for me as those early ones that I made. The flowers could be anything from what was growing, usually tulips, daffodils, and irises, to some wild flowers. My mother would always act surprised and happy. She kept all those cards, and I found them among her personal affects after her death.

Because Mother's Day was always on a Sunday, we would go to church. Mother always wore a red rose signifying that her mother was still living. I don't know if this is still a tradition in the South or not anymore, but it seemed a little sad to me since there were others, such as my grandmother, who had pale roses indicating that their mother had died.  I can remember hoping that my mother would never die.

So today I'm wishing for all the mothers that there is some happiness in knowing that you are loved. Inside the core of every child, there is a bond with the one who gave us life, no matter what the actions or words of the child may be. I hope that you enjoyed your day, did something good for yourself, and realized that you are a very special person.

Happy birthday Mother

The mother looked adoringly down at the new baby.  Her green eyes, not focusing yet, looked up and a bit of a smile spread across her baby face.  She held her mother's finger in a fierce grip.  The mother looked at the child and said, "I think that I'll call you Elizabeth for you have the presence of a strong Queen".

Elizabeth did grow strong.  Always slight, she ran and played in the old house and the surrounding countryside.  Often hiding from her younger sister, she would laugh with glee at how much quicker she was.  She loved books and baffled people with her intellect.  She could remember dates and the most intricate details of literature.

Away at college, her intellect was further fueled by so many choices.  She was fierce with her mind.  She knew Latin and French. She studied biology and made intricate drawings.  She pressed leaves into the pages of the books she read as if to make a bookmark of memories.

She graduated college and went back home.  There she met a handsome man who took her breath away.  She was already engaged but couldn't get her mind off the tall man who would ride on his horse to visit her at the school.  It wasn't long before Elizabeth decided that life with the tall handsome man was what she wanted.  She broke off her engagement without another thought.

Elizabeth and the handsome man were married.  They played cards with friends, went out on her father's yacht, built a sturdy house, had flower gardens and enjoyed their time together.  Eventually, a child was born to them.  He was a surprise in a way as they had decided not to have children.

But Elizabeth looked down into the green eyes of her baby and watched as his eyes tried to focus.  A smile came across his lips, and he reached out to grasp her finger.  He held fast to it.

Many years later, the boy-turned-man held onto her hand.  The hand was thin with the skin nearly transparent, brittle like paper.  The blue veins stood out.  She looked at him with the green eyes that were now milky with age.  She told him that he was the most important thing in her life.  He smiled back at her knowing that to be true. 

Happy birthday to my beloved mother Elizabeth who left this earth in 2005. I treasure your spirit and all that you gave to me.

Traveling

I was really moved to read Pam's posts about her mother who is ill. I am reminded as I read her post today of my experience during the last weeks of my own mother's life. She died suddenly one Sunday in July 2005. But in retrospect I could see that perhaps she had already begun to prepare for her death in the preceding weeks.

My mother had become frail. She was never a big woman but at 95, she had become like a bird. Her skin was translucent and nearly without wrinkles. She remained interested in reading but as her final days approached, she would gather all of her papers and notes around her as if she was trying to find something important in them. I would ask her what she was doing and she would say, "Oh I'm just reviewing things." I smile at that now.

There is a saying in the South that the dead begin to "travel" as their time nears. I've read about hospice workers who relate "visions" that the dying have. Some of the dying report visions of angels; most relate seeing deceased loved ones in the vision.

Some think that these visions are just reactions of the limbic system in a dying brain. Perhaps. But I think that the visions help soothe the dying person. And that there is more to this than science or medicine can explain.

My mother experienced a number of these "visions". A couple of weeks before her death, she told me one Sunday that she had the best time the night before. I asked her what happened, and she related to me, "I went dancing with your father." This took me aback at the time because my dad had died in 1985. Now I believe that she was reconnecting with my father who was waiting for her. There were several other instances in which she spoke of her mother and father and friends who had already transitioned to the next life.

And on the day of her death, I later learned that she told one of the workers at the home where she lived that she was in my kitchen. Her vision then was very strong and whatever prescient "energy" there is reached me because I had a sense of urgency to be with her. I wrote about that in another post.

I find these things comforting because I do believe that my mother was "traveling" beyond this life to the next. And maybe in doing so she changed and became an energy. I felt that energy in the days after her death and knew that she was still with me. While I now have memories of her, I don't feel that energy anymore and know that she has moved on and has transitioned peacefully to the after life.

Maybe this sounds crazy. But there are things that escape explanation. I believe that dying is as profound as living. And I am grateful for this experience that I had.

Things about my mom

Today is Mother's Day. My mother died four years ago. She's had a long life. Like most lives, some of it was good, some was exceptional and some of it was troubled. But today, I'm remembering the good and exceptional things about her.

I remember her intellect and how she had a keen interest in so many things. She was the one who encouraged me to pursue science. She was the one who taught me that learning is a life long pursuit.

I remember her handwriting. She had a beautiful script. It stayed the same in all her letters with the spelling and grammar meticulous.

I remember her sense of humor. She appreciated a good laugh and was mischievous in a way that few knew about.

I remember her love of flowers. She knew all the shrubs and trees and taught me to appreciate the iris in the spring, the roses of summer, the maples in fall, and the hollies in winter.

I remember the stories that she told to me. She brought the past to life in a way that was comforting. She told me about ancestors in a way that made them real to me.

I remember her spunk. She was a small woman that my father and I towered above. Yet, she could stand her ground in a regal way that made her seem very tall. She had presence and charm.

I remember her love of me. She laughed with me, she listened to me, she encouraged me, she stood by me, and she taught me.

Thanks Mother for all of it.

Some Wednesday thoughts

Here's some thoughts about today:

• I am still tired from vacation. I need a rest from resting.
  
• I am glad that the dogs and cats were happy to see me.
  
• I worried because one of the dogs was throwing up
• After cleaning up vomit for an hour, she seemed fine.
  
• I'm glad that someone invented Oxyclean
• The yard looks wonderful with lots of flowers blooming
• I picked lettuce this morning from the garden.
  
• My blackberries and blueberry bushes have flowers
• I have felt a bit out of the loop at work since coming back from vacation.
• I realize that I isolate too much when I'm tired.
  
• I am going to walk around and visit staff today and connect more.
• I filled out a form at the Holocaust Museum about what I would do to carry the message
• I wrote that I would do my best to fight injustice and to love instead of hate.
• I would like to go rowing tonight but severe thunderstorms are forecast
• One of my former employees was named MVP of the whole state agency.
• I'm happy for her because she is a hard worker.
  
• I don't think that I want a retirement party
• I would rather slip out the door without any hoopla
• I realize that's related to one of my character defects
• I have been thinking of my mother whose birthday was April 30
• I miss her and the good conversations that we had
• I know that Mother's Day is coming up and that makes me a bit sad.
  
• I can tell that I need a meeting.
  
• Yet, I feel disengaged from that too because of being away.
  
• I think that the goal for this day is to engage more, talk to my HP, and isolate less.
  

To live a spiritual life we must first find the courage to enter into the desert of loneliness and to change it by gentle and persistent efforts into a garden of solitude.
--Henri J. M. Nouwen

A story inspired by Joshua

"I'm not scared anymore, but I do worry. I don't want to grow up without my Mom. I want to have her here with me forever. I asked her once why God let this happen to us. Know what she told me? She said that God knew we were strong enough to handle it." Joshua

I followed a link to a blog about Christina's struggle with breast cancer. On her blog, she has a post written by her son Joshua. Joshua is a brave young man who has had to deal with fear about his mother's cancer. Yet, he found a way to work through that fear with the help of his family and his own positive attitude.

Reading about Joshua brought back my experience with my own mother and my wife who both had breast cancer. My mother was diagnosed when I was in graduate school. She had a radical mastectomy. I can remember the call from my father telling me that my mother had been diagnosed with cancer. I remember being worried for her. I remember how we went to see her after she had the surgery and that the right side was bandaged.

Yet, this tiny woman was upbeat and cheerful. She didn't seem worried or concerned. It was as if this was just a little inconvenience for her. She said that she would be up and going to a tea party in another week or so. And because of her attitude, I didn't worry about the outcome but felt assured that everything would be okay.

In my own selfish mind at the time, she had given me permission to go back to school and continue with my studies as if they were the most important thing in the world. And I left my mother to her own introspection about this disease.

It wasn't until much later that I learned how much my mother denied things. She was stoic in all regards and seemed so brave to me, yet in later life, she suffered from severe depression. I wonder now whether she ever had sleepless nights over the breast cancer diagnosis. I wonder whether her bravery was just a mask for denial. And that her brave front was just the sign that I needed to send me as fast as possible back to my studies so that I could sequester myself in my own controlled little world.

Breast cancer came around in my life again when my wife was diagnosed several years ago. Once again there was a stoicism and optimism that made me think that things would be okay. She also had a mastectomy. She went through a long breast reconstruction process. And I know that she cried and was apprehensive. She voiced her worries. I can remember how she would interpret every ache as metastasis, how she would pour over breast cancer books, and how she would follow a number of blogs about the disease.

Finally, we talked about the fact that it might be a good idea to move on. And that focusing on the disease, the survivors and their stories, and the roll call of the dead, may not be the best thing. Maybe that was the role model that I knew from my mother--just take a peek at this once in a while but keep the monster out of sight as much as possible.

Anyway, Joshua's story has made me realize that I needed to write about this. I needed to look back at those times, examine my thoughts, and be thankful that my mother lived a long life after her diagnosis and that my wife is still cancer free. My gratitude is overwhelming.

Saturday thoughts

Today is the anniversary of my mother's death. She was 95 when she died. She had lived a long life, but just as it does for all of us, our bodies eventually wear out. We get tired.

I shared at the meeting on Thursday in my story that one of the things that clearly showed me that there was a Power greater than myself was how I came to know about my mother's death. You see I actually knew about it before she died. And she knew about it also.

On the morning of her death, someone had come over to the house to visit us. It was a Sunday and I always went to visit my mother around noon on Sunday. About 11 AM, as I was talking to the lady who was visiting, I had a great feeling of urgency that I needed to be at the nursing home with my mother. I told my wife and the lady that I had to leave. I drove to the nursing home and when I turned the corner on my mother's hall, I saw the staff standing around and the head nurse standing there looking distressed. She told me that my mother had collapsed and the EMT's were working on her, trying to get her breathing. I watched as they carried her out and rode with them in the ambulance. But I knew that this was the end of her time here.

She had premonitions about her death as well. A few days before she died, she told me that she had a wonderful time going dancing with my father. He had come to pick her up the previous evening. My father had been dead for over 15 years.

I've read Hospice accounts of how the dying have premonitions and begin "traveling" before they are physically dead. My premonition of both my father and mother's deaths were an epiphany of sorts for me. I knew then that there was a Power greater than me who was leading me to be with them before they died, allowing us to connect in some manner before they moved on.

I'm thinking of my mother today and know that she and my dad are now dancing together.

Somebody's Mother

The woman was old and ragged and gray
And bent with the chill of the winter's day.
The street was wet with the recent snow,
And the woman's feet were aged and slow.

She stood at the crossing and waited long
Alone, uncared for, amid the throng
Of human beings who passed her by,
Nor heeded the glance of her anxious eye.

Down the street with laughter and shout.
Glad in the freedom of "school let out,"
Came the boys like a flock of sheep,
Hailing the snow piled white and deep.

Past the woman so old and gray
Hastened the children on their way,
Nor offered a helping hand to her,
So meek, so timid, afraid to stir,
Lest the carriage wheels or the horses' feet
Should crowd her down in the slippery street.

At last came one of the merry troop,
The gayest laddie of all the group;
He paused beside her and whispered low,
"I'll help you across if you wish to go."

Her aged hand on his strong young arm
She placed, and so, without hurt or harm,
He guided her trembling feet along,
Proud that his own were firm and strong.

Then back again to his friends he went,
His young heart happy and well content.
"She's somebody's mother, boys, you know,
For all she's aged and poor and slow;

"And I hope some fellow will lend a hand
To help my mother, you understand,
If ever she's poor and old and gray,
When her own dear boy is far away."

And "somebody's mother" bowed low her head
In her home that night, and the prayer she said
Was, "God be kind to the noble boy
Who is somebody's son and pride and joy."--Author Unknown

I am grateful for the mother who gave birth to me and loved me unconditionally on this day. Hope that you have a peaceful day.

Happy Birthday Mother

Today is my mother's birthday. She died peacefully at age 96 in 2005. Last year I posted a lot about her on this blog. I'm not going to repeat that here.

I know that the journey we had together was a good one. Our relationship was based on respect and unconditional love. Even though my mother isn't with me today, I remember her smile, her laugh, her wisdom, her intellect and her love.

Thoughts for Mothers

I remember all those Mother's Days when I would get up early and put cards out and pick some flowers from the yard for my mother. The cards were the ones that I had made, with stiff paper and colored with crayons. Later on, I bought cards, but they never seemed to have the same significance for me as those early ones that I made. The flowers could be anything from what was growing, usually tulips, daffodils, and irises, to some wild flowers. My mother would always act surprised and happy. She kept all those cards, and I found them among her personal affects after her death.

Because Mother's Day was always on a Sunday, we would go to church. Mother always wore a red rose signifying that her mother was still living. I don't know if this is still a tradition in the South or not anymore, but it seemed a little sad to me since there were others, such as my grandmother, who had pale roses indicating that their mother had died.  I can remember hoping that my mother would never die.

So today I'm wishing for all the mothers that there is some happiness in knowing that you are loved. Inside the core of every child, there is a bond with the one who gave us life, no matter what the actions or words of the child may be. I hope that you enjoyed your day, did something good for yourself, and realized that you are a very special person.

My mother's birthday

Today is my mother's birthday. I can't help but think of her with a mixture of happiness and sadness. She was certainly a woman of many contradictions.

She was my best friend when I was a child. We always had a number of interesting things to do. Every summer there would be a project for me to work on that involved biology. I would hatch out insects and study the life stages. I would grow tadpoles into frogs. I had my own microscope and would make slides from my blood, onion skin, algae, etc. We went into the woods and along ponds and streams to collect and study various things. This was what she taught me.

She was a Latin and English teacher who loved science. She also loved history and wrote a book on history of our county. She graduated from college and took graduate courses, all things that women of her generation hardly ever did. She was an elected official and was in all sorts of clubs. My mother was one of the most interesting people that I ever met. She was also one of the most frustrating.

From an early age, I can remember my mother having a very closed view of our little world. She was a proper lady when she needed to be and could be very haughty and judgmental if she was put on the defensive. She was always in denial about our family. She always told me to "remember who you are and where you came from". This was very confusing to me since I didn't think that we lived any better than anyone else. I liked just about everybody and to this day have an affinity for the people who aren't loved because they aren't pretty or rich or powerful. I am a friend to the underdog, I guess.

Anyway, my mother always wanted me to be the best. I had to have the best grades and succeed academically. She didn't have to push me much because it was what I wanted also. I know that she was proud of my accomplishments.

Mother could be very vain and put on great airs. In later life, those kinds of things could be excused but they still bothered me. She suffered from severe depression from age 70 on. I made sure that she got treatments, and she had hundreds of electoconvulsive shock treatments over the course of her depression. She was hospitalized many times, and each time she was admitted, she would come out more fragile than before. Anything could trigger a major depression such as getting a cold or not knowing how to work a microwave. But, when she wasn't depressed, she could have so much fun. Everything seemed to be a treat for her. It was as if life was a big candy store.

In her last years, she lived in a nursing center where she was the "social director". She always dressed beautifully and had a lot of friends among staff and residents. If she approved of you, she could be charming. If she didn't, well, you never knew whether she would be cold or just neutral. I think that her depression had a lot to do with her attitude. Most times when I would visit her or bring her home, she would be busily writing or reading. She loved to make inventories of all the antiques and delighted in genealogy. I guess that the inventory I'm making on myself is probably one that she never thought about.

Mother died peacefully at age 96 in 2005. I know that she was an exceptionally bright woman who had inherited a terrible illness. Depression robbed her of a lot because the ECT treatments wipe out short term memory. I'm just glad that her last years were spent being cared for well and being around those who loved her. Happy birthday Elizabeth. I still love you.